Chapter Three: The leap of faith

Read the earlier chapters:

• Chapter One: Khardung La Challenge: A Runner’s Journey
• Chapter Two: A Journey of Self-Discovery: Khardung La Challenge

‘Training is the real competition; event is just a DRESS REHEARSAL!’

 – A Wise Woman

6^th September 2024, 2:45 AM

Dressed up in the best possible manner, I stood in the crowd of participants at the START LINE. I decided to club my customary banana-eating ritual with a moment of solitude. In the midst of everything, I just shut myself off. I closed my eyes on the side of the road and thought of NOTHING.

In a jiffy, the entire journey of the year gone by flashed in front of me : the phone call from Panda Sir, the conversation with Dolly, Roy Sir and the team, the Bir Billing HM, the Auden’s Col Expedition, the exhausting training sessions back home and in Leh, the out of the world support system from Chandan, Soumit, Devanshu, the guards at the gates, my family back home and the entire extended eco-system spanning over all these months and lastly, the Brazil Café & its kind owner Ms. Olive with the due greetings before the finish.

I opened my eyes to the furor, just before the start and it was 2:55 AM. Standing in the row of participants as the count-down began, I felt poised, confident, and certain to START the ultimate race, the KHARDUNG LA CHALLENGE 72 Km, for the thought of FINISHING IT. I was surely taking THE LEAP OF FAITH.

Start Point to North Pullu (17 km)

Divinely filling the uncanny silence was the sound of flowing stream on the gradual upslope, adding to the existing chilled ambience. Sticking to my run walk strategy, I kept up relating to my route recce experience. I reached for the next runner ahead. Gradually, I crossed over yet holding my horses, ensuring I did not exceed my planning parameters.

I kept an average pace varying from 7:40/km to 8:30/km. I was constantly checking on my hydration and fueling during the first five km. It was something one needs to constantly train for to avoid amiss in exuberance on the race day. The hydration stations welcomed us each 5 km. They were well stocked for hydration and nutrition. The stations provided with warm water, chikki, bananas, boiled potatoes and jaggery. As a matter of rule, I finished both 500 ml soft flasks between these stations and then refilled them. This is a hack that can come handy to many. As a matter of practice, I avoided gels and relied on the satiating nutrition taken from the stations.

Maintaining an average pace of around 9:40/km, I reached North Pullu by 5.30 AM, well into the daybreak. I felt strong and decided against stopping at this drop off bag station. I carried on with the headlight to avoid wasting any time. I continued the course, anticipating no major change in the weather conditions, a wise decision indeed. I got my hands on to a parantha being served by a few army personnel outside North Pullu. I continued the journey stuffing it in my system over next 200 metres (quite literally) with sips of water.

North Pullu to Khardung La (15 km)

From the gradual upslope so far, the route from North Pullu would now be offering a respectable elevation gain as there is less oxygen to breathe up to Khardung La. Taking the road bend up from North Pullu shifted the landscape and increased the gradient. This, combined with the day light, posed the expected challenge. With the singular aim of brisk walking, I cautiously kept tracking my pace at each km. It hovered between 10:15 to 10:40 min/km for the next 8 km, traversing one bend to another.

The daybreak was adding a distinct chill factor to the ambient conditions due to the increasing proximity to the mighty Khardung La. The chill was definitely noticeable as compared to the darkness of the night. I made sure to avoid jogging and stick to the original plan. I concentrated more on hydration and fueling at each station.

A prominent turn of a semi-frozen stream and there came the view of the Khardung La Pass with very prominent Communication Towers. It was a never ending and painstakingly finishing sight, as described my many runners earlier. Clearly there was no looking up and all my concentration was to keep my head low and keep going. I could see a few SRU runners enroute. I could feel nothing but awestruck, inspired and motivated as I moved past them.

Also read: Silk Route Ultra: A Pilgrimage Through Pain and Perseverance

The last 5 km were surely taxing reducing my pace to around 11:30min/km especially in the last 1 km. The last 300-meter stretch was the most distinct and coldest one. It was behind the cliff and still retaining the remnants of snow. It made me look down and notice in awe the distance, the bends, and the expanse that I had traversed. I realized that I was doing respectably well.

Cut to the Khardung La top and the blip over the running mat alerted me of my second goal being achieved, well within the time; 5 hours 23 minutes and 29 seconds (against 8 hour cut off), so to say.

It was delightful to find Sitharam Sir taking a quick bite at the top and re-adjusting the layers. The sky was overcast with barely any sunlight. This reassured me to continue with the existing attire, less one quick-dry windcheater and the headlight that I dropped off. Quite inciting though, I dropped the idea of spending much time and as excited, as I could be, ventured for the balance Full Marathon.

Khardung La to South Pullu (14 km).

The sudden change in landscape, especially viewed after a formidable elevation gain was overwhelming, concurring much with the sudden dip in the slope. Thrilled to a point and infused with a lightheaded feeling, the first thing that struck me were the words of Surajit Roy Sir. I carefully resorted against trying anything silly, took it easy and followed the plan. I attained a favorable average pace of 8:20 min/km fruitfully utilizing all the hydration stations. They seemed better stocked with variety of nutrition now.

The temperatures had started to increase but the sight of a bright sun was still far. The route was fairly conducive and had its share of manageable rubble infested bad patches. With barely a few runners around, the journey was turning lonelier and monotonous. I had to keep jolting myself to avoid slipping into the tedium till at least South Pullu. 3 hydration points later, and I was at South Pullu, a place, I definitely had plans for.

I decided to take my fair share of time with my Drop-Off bag here, making up for the unused time of Khardung La. I could see a set of runners hogging Khichdi and Maggi next to the army check point. They were basking in the sudden spurt of sun, which showed its presence intermittently now. The volunteers were really kind to help me with finding my Drop-Off bag from the well-organized sections.

I was packed for the occasion. I took out the Neon Yellow Khardung La T-shirt, the matching race arm-sleeves, the cap and changed into the most desired ‘Finish-Point’ attire, I had always imagined myself in. Having refueled my electrolyte and soft flasks I bit my energy bars and took a final look into the reflection of a parked car’s windshield.

Finally, I took the penultimate ‘Leap of Faith.’ (I was really looking smart, LOL).

South Pullu to Mendak Mod (12 km)

Dreadful, exhausting and testing, would be the most appropriate terms to define this stretch. There were primarily two reasons for this. The first, of course was the road condition that was now testing my considerably tired legs and the second was the varying weather conditions. The under-construction road proved to be a major distraction with a continuous pinning sensation, accentuated by the rubble and the debris. The nuanced road surfaces barely offered respite. Even the fine stones tended to create friction and added to the misery.

The monotony was so overpowering that my mind was continuously searching for a fellow runner to share some grief with. However, it was all in vain. All along the hairpin bends, my mind was filled with illusions. I could continuously see Mendak Mod from above. Yet, it seemed far from my reach despite me progressing my best. Intermittent gusts of winds made me question my decision of de-layering to the ‘Blue Carpet Dress’, a notion I was continuously defending at an emotional level. The sole respites were the hydration stations and the amazingly helpful local ladies. They showered me with blessings and offered the nutrition. In short, the stretch made me question my mere existence in the event.

Unknowingly, the vagaries of the route had brought the best out of me. My average pace ranged around 7:35min/km. Suddenly, my chip made the uncanny sound over the timing mat in Mid of Nowhere: The Mendak Modh. It was the penultimate Cut-Off Point. I moved way past it at 9 hours 16 minutes and 40 seconds (against a cut off of 12 hours).

Mendak Mod to Leh Market (Finish Point) (14 km)

As the last stretch (3 more hydration stations) opened up with an improved road condition, the sun shone bright over my head. The thought of finishing the course was resounding, yet I felt a loss in my zeal to continue being strong at this moment. I was caught in the tedium. The loneliness was hitting me hard. Maybe all I was waiting for was a catalyst.

To my utter surprise, I saw Sudhir running down from the rear. “Sodhi Sir, 11 ghante me karna hai… chalo chautha gear laga lo abh (Sodhi Sir, we gotta do it in 11 hours, time to pull up your socks now)”. Sudhir’s words were nothing short of a divine intervention and charged me up for the last stretch. Running in his steps for a few minutes, I came to know that he had majorly tired himself during the upslope. After some recovery, he used his skills on the downslope to his advantage. Sudhir ran past me, and I too started the final leap with a freshly infused enthusiasm.

A young man enroute reaffirmed my faith congratulating me in advance for an anticipated strong finish. I took the compliment in my stride but with due caution. I still remember how blessed I felt taking a watermelon slice at the last hydration station as the sun was driving me crazy and I wanted some shade. This was possible only in the last 5 km stretch.

High Five 

Cut to the famous PETROL PUMP. It was 5 km short of the finish point. I took the sharp turn towards the interior of the town. My goodness, this was the moment. I knew I was gonna live it to its best and planned to end it on the most beautiful note.

I forgot all that was left behind and jumped out of the tedium. I was greeted by the locals, now frequently visible in the streets. The Gompa in front of me had elderly people cheering me up and boosting my confidence. The stretch was described as, Never Ending, by some runners, as it took turns through the well-marked most interior streets. It opened up to the racing track area and off roading area and a few archaic structures which one would miss on a normal stroll while visiting Leh.

Running through the beautiful town lanes with houses around felt like being a celebrity as the commuters and the traffic police would halt. They made way and cheered with abundant warmth and a unique sense of camaraderie. Not even for a moment was I interested in asking anyone as to how far the end point was. I also did not care how much time was left. All I could hear was a group of people near the petrol pump telling me that I was gonna have a legendary finish with a highly respectable timing.

Little did I realize that I had hit the T junction of the Leh Market Road. The finish point was just 400 metres away. The air was filled with a sense of extreme joy. The loud cheers were audible, filling the charged environment with joy. To my surprise I saw a cameraman running the down slope with me towards the Leh Market turn and a little chat followed: –

• Cameraman – Sir kaisa lag raha hai? (Sir, how are you feeling?)
• Me – Mere pass shabd nai hain bayan karne ko. (I do not have words to express my feelings.)
• Cameraman – Sir, kya soch k aye the? (Sir, what had you thought for yourself?)
• Me – Apni hadd dekhne aya tha. (I had come to see my limits.)
• Cameraman – Dekh li? (Seen them?)
• Me – Abhi kahan, abhi to bas shururat hai! (No way, this is just the beginning!)

‘Gratitude is the best served when Baked,’ unlike any other aspect, this one did not need a reminder. On the final turn to the finish point, just about 250 metres short, I stopped below the Brazil Café. I looked up, very much anticipating the presence of Ms Olive. I shouted at the top of my voice, “Ms. Olive, thanks for feeding me the most amazing cakes, I do owe you a great deal!”, realizing that the crowd around me had rejoiced the moment just as much as I did. I took the final 250 metres to the finish point, not by storm, but celebration.

Side-clapping with the electrifying spectators, I folded my hands in awe to thank them all as I moved basking in the vibe like never before. “Oooohhh Bhai Shahab,,, Sodhi Sahab… Sodhi Sahab…,” I heard the voice of Vinod Bhakuni, my fellow runner in Bir Billing Hell Race. He spotted me and greeted me with amazing brotherhood. I made sure to turn back and touch his hands in reciprocation.

Finally, I crossed the finish line with the chip timing of 11:00:49 and kneeled in awe. I was humbled to the core. I closed my eyes and thanked the almighty for helping me finish the DREAM RACE. I bowed and kissed the mother earth as a matter of immense GRATITUDE.

Post Race

The race culminated with presentation of a Khatag. The organizers also awarded me with a finisher’s medal. I greeted Sudhir and Nirbhay Sir, who had finished stronger and were naturally cheerful. Sudhir made my day by clicking a few nice shots at the Finish Line. Our group took pictures together as we all closed in.

As I travelled back to Chandan’s place, the driver of the vehicle, mustering all his courage and asked me cautiously, “Sir, are you hurt? I have been noticing tears under your shades for past 5 minutes. Do you need help?”

“The tears of joy, toil and sheer gratitude were making their way through, unnoticed and uninvited.”

Epilogue

The official ranking was:

• Overall: 44/234
• Gender: 42/202
• Open Male: 37/169

*****

• Chapter One: Khardung La Challenge: A Runner’s Journey
• Chapter Two: A Journey of Self-Discovery: Khardung La Challenge